Out of the Ashes
by Snapdragon83
Summary: When Jane's safe house burns down, Kurt moves her in with him until he can find her a new place. (Written for a prompt on Tumblr.)


I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

Kurt's heart was in his throat as he pulled onto Jane's street and pulled up behind the emergency vehicles blocking the road, leaping out of his SUV almost as soon as he'd put it in park. Several first responders gave him odd looks as he jogged past them in search of Jane, but he paid them no mind. He had jumped out of bed the moment he got the call her safe house was on fire and thrown on the first clothes he could find before racing over here, but his looks were hardly a priority at the moment. _She_ was all that mattered.

No one had been able to tell him if she had been injured, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief when he finally spotted her huddled against the back of the ambulance, her arms wrapped tightly around herself to ward off the November chill as she watched firefighters struggle to extinguish the blaze. It was clear that the house was going to be a total loss, and his heart ached at the desolation in her face. She might not have considered this place hers _,_ but it was still the closest thing she had to _home_ at the moment.

Kurt yanked off his jacket as he crossed the remaining few feet between them and draped it around Jane's shoulders. She looked up at him, startled, having been so engrossed in the scene before her that she hadn't even heard him approach. "Kurt," she said dully as he knelt down next to her. "I told them not to call you. You didn't need to come." She attempted to hand him back his jacket, but he draped it more firmly around her shoulders, and she sucked in a breath as his scent enveloped her, as memories of that smell surrounding her as she was in his arms played across her mind.

"Of course I did," Kurt corrected, his worry for her making his tone a tad sharp. "Were you injured at all? Have the medics cleared you?"

Of course he had felt the need to come, Jane realized as he spoke, tamping down the brief surge of hope that he had done so because he still lo—cared for her, as Rich had said. She was an asset to him now, nothing more. It behooved him to make sure that his investment was still able to carry out her mission. "I'm fine. The smoke alarm woke me, and I got out before the fire really got going. I was just thinking about catching a cab back to the office."

"The office?" Kurt frowned. What could she possibly want there at this time of night? "Why?"

Jane's look was incredulous. "Where else am I going to go? I don't exactly have money for a motel room." Not that she would spend it on that if she did, when she could catch a few hours' sleep at the NYO. Something she knew for a fact that Kurt himself had done in the past. "Besides, this way no one will have to go out of their way to pick me up before work in the morning."

"You're not going to have to stay at the office, Jane," Kurt assured her even though he hadn't given that aspect of her predicament any thought until just now. He opened his mouth to tell her that he would assign her another safe house when he remembered that they were all currently full due to an influx of witnesses needing protection at the moment, and what came out instead was, "You can stay in my spare room until I can find you another place."

Thankfully, Nas hadn't stayed over tonight. Kurt was fairly certain that Rich Dotcom had picked up on the fact that the two of them were sleeping together, and equally relieved the man had refrained from mentioning it. He was growing increasingly conscious of a desire that Jane never find out things between them had become . . . intimate, which did not bode well for the future of their relationship. If that was what you could call what they had. At times, he wondered if Nas was even truly attracted to him.

Or why he had given in to her advances in the first place. And why he continued to do so. Despite her professed interest in being more open with him, her attempts at transparency seemed superficial at best and left him with a vague feeling of disquiet that he was once again being played somehow. And he'd had his fill of secrets and lies, of being someone else's patsy.

"No!" Jane protested immediately, realizing even as she said so that Kurt was as taken aback by his offer as she was, and she softened her tone. "I appreciate the offer, but that's not necessary." Or wise, at this point. As Rich had said, they could barely look at one another any longer. They were like fire and gunpowder, and being under the same roof for any length of time would only hasten another explosion.

Kurt's mouth tightened stubbornly at her rejection. "Jane. You're staying with me, and that's final." He was calling the shots now, and the sooner she realized that, the better off she would be. "Come on." He turned and stalked back toward his SUV, not bothering to look behind him to see if she was following him. He would come back and sling her over his shoulder if need be. He ignored the niggling little voice in his head that was questioning why it was so important to him that she stay at his place.

Jane slid into the SUV without comment and stared out the window in stony silence until Kurt took a turn that led them away from his apartment. "Where are we going?"

"The store," Kurt told her, never taking his eyes off the road. "You're going to need a few things if you intend to go to work in the morning." Pajamas, for starters, in order for her to get a good night's sleep. He didn't have anything that would fit her, and the clothes she had on needed to be burned. They reeked of smoke.

"That's not . . ." _Necessary,_ Jane started to say, but the look he shot her shut her up. He was clearly unwilling to tolerate any objections from her, though what had put him in such a foul mood, she couldn't imagine. It was _her_ house that had burned, after all.

Kurt stomped through the store like a man on a mission, and Jane followed meekly after him, picking out the items he insisted she get. From shampoo and deodorant to a hair dryer and hair brush to various items of clothing, no item was apparently too small to escape his attention. Her cheeks burned as she tossed a package of underwear into the cart. By the time they headed to the checkout line, the cart was nearly full, and Jane winced as she saw the final total. Hopefully, the FBI would reimburse Kurt for these purchases.

It was well over an hour before they arrived back at his apartment, and in all that time, the two of them didn't speak a word to one another that wasn't absolutely necessary. Kurt led her straight down the hall to Sarah's old bedroom and deposited her bags on the bed. "The bathroom's just down the hall on the left," he told her as he turned to leave. He hesitated a moment at the door. "Good night, Jane."

"Good night," Jane said softly, but Kurt was already out of earshot. She decided to take his advice and take a shower, and she rummaged through her purchases to get what she needed. She certainly wasn't in any hurry to go to bed. _Good_ nights had been few and far between since her three-month exile at the CIA's black site.

She took her time, but she finally ran out of things to do and crawled beneath the covers. She slept dreamlessly for a while, but eventually the nightmares returned—as they always did. She whimpered softly as Keaton's face filled her mind. "Why Kurt Weller?" he demanded over and over, beating her, shocking her, drowning her, every time she refused to answer. Ignoring the fact that she couldn't even if she wanted to. She wondered that as well.

"I don't know," she cried out in her sleep, softly at first and then louder. "I don't know . . . why Kurt."

"I'm here, Jane." Her cries had awakened him out of a fitful sleep. Kurt gently placed a hand on her arm to comfort her, but that proved to be a mistake. He found himself flat on the floor beside the bed before he even knew what hit him, Jane poised above him with her arm across his windpipe, still in the throes of her nightmare. "Jane. Jane, wake up. It's me. Everything's okay. You're safe."

Jane took a shuddering breath as awareness returned, and she met Kurt's sympathetic gaze. Great. Now on top of being angry at her, he pitied her. Had she really thought the situation couldn't get any worse? She scrambled off him and back onto the bed, not stopping until her back was against the headboard and drawing her knees up to her chest in a defensive posture.

Kurt sat up as well. "Do you have these nightmares often?"

"I'm fine, Kurt," Jane said sharply, sidestepping the question. "You can go back to bed now." She might have had to give in to him on everything else tonight, but he couldn't force her to open up to him. He might own every other part of her at the moment, but her thoughts were her own. Her nightmares were her dragon to slay.

After all, he'd handed her over to the man that was the cause of them.

Kurt sighed. He would have liked to press the issue, but it was clear doing so would only make the situation worse. "All right. Try to go back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." Or rather, later in the morning. He returned to his own bed, but slept only fitfully himself, troubled by thoughts of Jane and Nas and his unborn child. Surprisingly, when he did finally get to sleep, it was Jane he dreamed of beside him at the hospital when he saw his baby for the first time. And celebrated his first birthday. And walked him into kindergarten for the first time.

Unsurprisingly, Nas was less than thrilled at his solution to Jane's housing dilemma. "Why didn't you call me?" she asked, forcing a calm to her voice she was very far from feeling. She had worked hard to gain the upper hand here, and she could almost feel that control evaporating. If Kurt talked to Jane . . . "She could have stayed with me last night."

He'd considered it . . . but a little voice deep inside him had warned that taking Jane there would be like setting the fox to guard the henhouse. Nas had already intruded on Jane's privacy to an unconscionable level, in his opinion—an issue they had yet to fully resolve—and he didn't want to hand her any more ammunition to attempt to use against Jane. Nas might think she could gain the upper hand that way, but he knew better. He knew _Jane._ She fought hardest when her back was against the wall. Whatever threats Nas had made against her thus far had only worked because she agreed with the end goal.

"No matter," Nas said, oblivious to the direction his thoughts had taken and hoping to smooth things over before any real damage could be done, "I'm sure you'll be able to find her suitable accommodations today."

"Actually, it's going to be a while," Kurt corrected. He had reviewed the list of available safe houses this morning and found only one that would be available in the near future. But putting Jane in that one would compromise their ability to protect another witness if the need arose. He was going to have to find money in the budget to set up more safe houses, and soon.

"I see," Nas said, and Kurt couldn't help wondering what, exactly, it was that she saw. Her face was as inscrutable as ever. "Well, in that case . . ."

"Jane's staying with me," Kurt informed her flatly and cut her off again when she started to protest. "I think it's time you and I had another discussion about our roles on this team. This may be your mission to command, but Jane is an FBI asset, and decisions about all FBI assets and personnel are _mine_ to make. Which means you don't get to plant bugs in my building without my consent; you don't decide which tattoo cases we work; and you absolutely do not _ever_ again threaten to take one of my agents' badges. Are we clear on that?"

"Crystal," Nas said through gritted teeth, and Kurt was just starting to relax when she spoke again. "But we still need to discuss Jane's living situation. As the director of the NYO, you need to avoid the appearance of impropriety, and this is the height of it."

Kurt's mouth tightened. "Are you really concerned about my reputation . . . or do you just want to keep Jane away from _me?"_

"And if I do?" Nas asked gently as she leaned forward and took his hand, desperate to regain his trust before this situation spun any further out of her ability to control. "I care about you, Kurt. Is it so wrong of me not to want the man I'm trying to build a relationship with to cohabitate with a woman he loved not so very long ago? Or was Rich Dotcom right when he said you still love her, and are just confused?"

"Is that what we're doing?" Kurt asked skeptically, choosing to ignore the latter part of the question and wondering how exactly she had learned that Rich said that. He made a mental note to have Patterson sweep the entire office for bugs next time they were out in the field. "Building a relationship?"

Nas hesitated. "I certainly thought we were." Or at least, she thought she had convinced _him_ they were. _Damn_ Rich Dotcom. She had seen the doubts growing in Kurt's eyes ever since his impromptu visit. Kim Jong Un would have been doing the world a service for once if he had managed to do away with him.

"Okay, so tell me how you see that working out," Kurt encouraged, thankful for the unexpected clarity that he had awoken with this morning. "Assuming we both survive bringing down Sandstorm, do you plan to leave the position at the NSA you've worked so hard to achieve and move here to New York to be Suzy Homemaker? Because I am certainly not going to step down from my job and leave my child to move to Baltimore to be with you." And if he wanted to be brutally honest, he couldn't see a future with her even if they did live in the same city. Nas was a temporary welcome distraction from everything going on in his life at the moment, nothing more.

And that wasn't fair to either one of them.

"I see," Nas said quietly as she pulled back. "You've certainly given me a lot to think about." She would need to retreat and regroup before figuring out her next plan of attack. "But regardless of our personal issues, it's still best that Jane stay with me."

"Why?" Kurt demanded. "So you can keep an eye on her twenty-four seven?"

Nas frowned. "I thought you understood why I needed to do that. You may be convinced that Jane won't go off the rails, but I'm not. This mission is too important to risk failure because she isn't properly motivated to remain on our side."

"Her motivations seem pretty clear to me," Kurt responded. She wanted justice for what had been done to them and to save her brother. He could certainly understand that. There were no lengths he wouldn't go to for Sarah if she were in a similar situation. "Yours, on the other hand . . ."

"What is it about my motives that you find hard to understand?" Nas asked. "I was the one who connected the dots on Sandstorm six years ago, and I've been tracking them ever since. I've lost people I cared about to them as well, which is why I'm doing everything in my power—"

"Are you really?" Kurt interrupted. "You say you don't want to fail at this mission, but we're running out of time and options, and you still refuse to let Jane try to turn Roman. Why is that, exactly?"

"Roman is a sociopathic killer," Nas pointed out. "Are you telling me you'd be willing to take a chance on him and offer him a deal that would let him get off scot-free for killing all those cops?"

Kurt refused to let her turn the question back on him. "You're the one who keeps preaching about the greater good. How a few lives are a small price to pay for stopping Sandstorm. Yet when you're presented with a golden opportunity to turn a key member with actual information, you shy away from it. I'm curious as to why that is."

"Well, as you pointed out earlier," Nas said as she rose gracefully from her chair, "this mission is mine to command. Which means I don't have to explain myself to you." Nor would she. She started to leave, but turned back at the door. "I really hope this doesn't all blow up in your face . . . _Assistant_ Director Weller."

Kurt's eyebrows rose at the subtle threat. Clearly, he had been right to have his doubts about Nas, but if she thought he feared her, she had badly underestimated her opponent. At least he now knew for certain who he could trust . . . and who he couldn't.

Forewarned was forearmed, after all.


End file.
